


Yielding

by r0salynee



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daddy Kink, Light BDSM, M/M, Mild Smut, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 20:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11654478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0salynee/pseuds/r0salynee
Summary: Continuation of 'Green Light.'John and Miles deepen their relationship, learning things about the other they never knew.





	Yielding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bbvqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbvqueen/gifts).



**Monday 2:05 AM**

Crashing through door of their room, after spending a good while fumbling with the key card in one hand and trying to keep his very intoxicated partner off him long enough to focus, John pushed them to the closest wall once inside, pinning Miles to it immediately. He fought back a laugh when the younger man stumbled a bit; he couldn't even remember how much he'd drank throughout the day. He would have asked if he knew either, but John doubted he had an answer. Instead, he quickly put his lips to Miles' neck-- kissing, licking, biting the curve where the shoulder met-- an area he intimately knew as the younger man's weak spot. A symphony of moans and whimpers filled his left ear, a soft tug on his hair like a silent plea.  
“John” his name slurred and the tone needy, “Bed.”

As soon as he made the request, the older man lifted Miles' from behind his knees with ease, distracting him with a sloppy kiss, dropping him on his back onto the hotel mattress. He barely had anytime to pull away when Miles yanked him back down by his shirt collar for another long kiss. John grinned, dragging his hands down the younger man's sides, relishing in the quiver that followed as he rested his fingers on the zipper of his jeans. Another, harder tug on his hair, Miles' hips jerked up and John lazily undid the zipper, popping the top button closure with one hand. Releasing the older man from his hold, he watched him pull down his jeans and boxers with the same languid pace he had previously, careful to drag his blunt nails against his legs. Miles swore under his breath, tossing his head back against the mattress, his chest heaving.

“Sensitive, are we?”  
“You're such an asshole,” Miles groaned; John only laughed as he discarded the clothing onto the floor.  
“I could make it worse,” John said, voice low, pushing up the younger man's shirt until he took the hint to take it off himself, throwing it to the ground along with his jeans.  
“Don't think I can handle it?”  
The older man grinned again, he loved how feisty he got when he was drunk. Taking him up on his challenge, John crawled up from the edge of the bed until his eye met Miles', half lidded and unfocused.  
“Guess we'll have to find out, huh?”

**Monday 2:27 AM**

A faint whimper escaped his lips, followed by a more sobered cry of his name; John made a clicking sound with his tongue.  
“No whining, Miles. This is what you wanted.”  
Another drawn out cry echoed in the room as John pushed back inside of him, his pace set as agonizingly slow as he could manage, keeping Miles still with both hands so he wouldn't try to thrust into his movement. The younger man clawed at the bed sheets, trying to bury his face underneath them in his current position on his knees, his ass in the air and fully exposed to John, still clothed after what seemed like hours of this.  
“John,” he swallowed the sob creeping up his throat, “John, I can't--”  
“Of course you can, you've already gone nearly half an hour,” the older man replied, a smile in his voice, one hand squeezed his hip while the other snaked up his back, his fingers threading through Miles' grown out buzz cut, yanking his head off the mattress.

The jolt of pain caused a frustrated moan, louder than he had intended, but couldn't do anything to stifle it. John had threatened to hold his arms back if he tried the last few times. Miles already figured everyone in the surrounding rooms could hear them this entire time, if not then they certainly did now. Something about the thought made his dick harder, made it leak the smallest amount of cum; he hoped John wouldn't notice the wet spot on the sheets. Another push of John's cock inside him, another significantly louder moan forced out of him; he felt like he was suffocating, panting for air, and clawed at the sheets again.  
“Please... please,” he sobbed, begged with tears in his eyes, “I can't do it, I can't do anymore, John--”  
One final thrust, one last painfully slow pull, Miles felt John lean over him, pinning his wrists down and his lips pressed close to his ear.

“I expect you to last longer than this next time.”  
The words sent a shiver down his spine. There would be a next time for this. John had never done this when they slept together prior. He'd never seen this side of him, or remotely thought he had a side of him like this. Miles winced, a light bite on his ear before John spoke again.  
“Now, do you want to be a good boy and sit on my lap?”  
Miles' eyes rolled back, hips bucking in response, another leak spilled from his cock. He loved this.  
“Yes, yes Daddy.”

With a low chuckle, John removed himself from Miles, retreating to prop himself up against the headboard. He crooked his finger, beckoning the younger man over to him; ignoring the sore feeling that spread through his insides, Miles crawled to meet him, straddling his lap in the process. He remained hovering over him until John positioned his cock towards Miles' ass, waiting for him to move. He lowered himself onto John's cock, albeit too fast and too hard, but he ignored the pain in favor of how good it felt to have all of John inside of him. Without being told, the younger man slowly rolled his hips, lifting himself up and down the older man's dick, his hands grasping the headboard for added support, willing himself to go faster and faster until he was moaning loud enough that the entire hotel and the adjacent hotel could hear him. 

All the while, John watched him calmly, catching his lips a few times for a brief kiss, and allowed him to continue riding him.  
“That's it,” he coaxed, resting his hands on Miles' hips, pushing him down harder on his dick, “That's a good boy.”  
Miles' grip on the headboard tightened, so much so he was worried he would snap it in half. He only responded with another needy whine, speeding up his pace. He damn near screamed when John latched onto his neck, biting it roughly, one hand brushed his hip bone, gently grasping at his neglected cock.  
“Come for Daddy, Miles.”  
His thumb stroked the swollen head, Miles was seeing white.

**Monday 11:08 AM**

Miles lurched over the toilet again, gagging and coughing so loud it echoed out of the porcelain bowl. He never got hangovers, he never drank enough to get hangovers, and never wanted to again. His head throbbed, he needed to vomit, but the feeling just sat in his stomach and went nowhere, every part of his body ached, though that may have been attributed to John and the events of last night, not so much the alcohol. Bile crept up his throat again, Miles turned his head back into the toilet, gagged, and groaned when no relief came. Behind the shut bathroom door, the front door of the hotel room creaked open and promptly shut. The footsteps that followed pounded against the floor; Miles could feel the sound in the back of his head.

“Miles,” John's voice, followed by a soft rap on the door, “You doin' okay?”  
The younger man groaned weakly; the door swung open, another few footsteps, and he felt John's hand on his back.  
“Take that as a no?”  
Miles shot him a glare from behind the crook of his arm.  
John scoffed a laugh, “Sorry, here.”  
He fished something out of the grocery bag Miles didn't even notice him carrying.  
“Drink this,” he instructed, twisting off the cap of a bottle, handing it to him.

“What is it?”  
Miles took a swig of the drink before John could answer, prompting him to immediately turn his head back into the toilet, nearly an hour of seeking relief finally met.  
“Flavored water. Usually does the trick, if you're as drunk as you were last night,” John replied, failing to bite back a grin.  
The younger man coughed, “Well you've done it John, you've officially made me never want to drink again.”  
“Again?”  
“Or for like two months.”  
Miles paused, lifting his head away from the rim of the bowl.  
“Okay, maybe three weeks.”  
John laughed, outstretching a hand to Miles, “C'mon kiddo, back to bed.”

**Monday 4:17 PM**

The violent buzz of his phone, set on the bedside table, woke Miles hours later. He groaned, turning over on his side, grabbing the phone before it could make any other noise. After a few failed attempts to unlock the screen in his exhausted state, he noticed he had at least two missed calls and four text messages waiting for him. Miles didn't need to guess who they were all from. Tapping the icon for his texts, he confirmed his suspicions. 

Q:  
| Hellooooooo?  
|  
| Miiiiiiiiiles?????  
|  
| You dead in a ditch or nah?  
|

P:  
| how is he gonna answer if he's dead? Please don't be dead, man.  
|

Miles chuckled, typing out a response.

| Still kicking. And dicking.  
|

A couple minutes passed before his phone went off again.

P:  
| MILES!!!!!!  
|

Q:  
| Thanks for sharing your current dick situation too.  
| 

| Always, also are you two texting me while sitting directly next to each other?  
|

P:  
| Yes, maybe. Where are you anyway??  
|

Q:  
| You have no place to be judging our texting etiquette, Mr. Can't Text Anyone for 5 Days.  
|

| Sorry, sorry. My stupid phone died lol. We're in Vegas right now.  
|

Q:  
| Excuses. Am I reading this right? Miles in Vegas? I want proof.  
|

Miles sighed, pushing himself out of bed to get closer to the large window in the room. He snapped a picture of the view outside, the main strip of casinos and clubs still bustling with tourists. Sending the attachment, the phone lit up with a new message.

Q:  
| Well fuck me, Miles in fucking Vegas.  
|

P:  
| This is a riot lol, and where's the Mister at?  
|

| I actually don't know. I've been asleep since like 11 AM.  
|

Feeling mildly concerned, the younger man ignored the next message his friends had sent, searching around the room for any sign of John. He was satisfied with a note he scrawled in his chicken scratch writing on the pad of paper on the opposite end table, stating he headed out to bring him something to eat once he was awake. Miles clicked in his response on the phone.

Q:  
| What a gentleman.  
|

| So how is everything there?  
|

P:  
| Well, your boss called demanding to know where you were since you weren't answering your phone, and I told him you went on a trip. Asked when you'd be back, and I said probably never lol

Miles did always hate that job. A horrid part time job in the post office. It was the best thing he could manage without having to drive an hour to the city, and the best he could manage having just moved back into town. 

P:  
| Oh and your cat misses you.  
|

| Not my cat.  
|

Q:  
| Well she only liked you so  
|  
| Your cat  
| 

| Fine lol  
|

Q:  
| Anyway, just wanted to make sure you were alive, we'll let you get back to Vegas and your boyfriend. Later.  
|

| Thanks. Night guys.  
|

He placed the phone back onto the bedside table, running a hand through his hair. John would be back soon, and he needed a shower badly, and to brush his teeth. The lingering taste of alcohol and vomit stuck in his mouth; the last thing he wanted was to kiss John with his breath tasting like either of the two. Lazily, he climbed out of the bed, making his way to the bathroom. Another buzz came from his phone, catching his attention; Miles turned on his heel and walked back towards the phone. A new text, this one sent out of the group message between his two friends. The preview of the text only read one name-- “Quiet.” A fitting nickname.

Quiet:  
| I just want to be sure. Everything is okay, right? I mean...  
|  
| I know it's been a while since.... You Know Who. But I need to be sure.  
|  
| I don't want you getting hurt again. 

Miles gripped his phone tight in his hand, unable to respond for a minute. She hadn't said the name, but the implication, the memory, was still there. He remembered all of it vividly-- coming back to a damn near empty apartment, packing what little of his was left, paying the landlord to break his lease, the red eye flight back home, the way he broke down in the front door of the house the minute Quiet opened it. At some point she took the thin diamond ring out of his bag.  
“I don't like shit that makes you cry,” she had said when he questioned her. He never brought it up again. 

He released a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding in. He wanted John to come back right about now. Making his way back towards the bathroom, Miles typed out a reply.

| Everything is fine, honestly. Better than I ever thought.  
|

He really meant that too.

**Tuesday 8:02 AM**

“Dumbest thing you've ever done and got away with?”  
John bit his lip in concentration, one hand on the steering wheel while the other gripped a Styrofoam cup of coffee.  
“In the service or just in general?”  
Miles chuckled, “Which one is the most outrageous?”  
The older man hummed in thought.  
“The time I hid from my commanding officer in a cardboard box.”  
He spat out a laugh, “You did not!”  
“I did,” John confirmed, a wide grin on his face, “She found me an hour later, and she was pissed.”

Miles broke out into a fit of laughter, “Okay, wow, I don't have anything that would top that.”  
“Weirdest place you've woken up after a night of drinking?”  
“Oh that's easy,” the younger man replied, “21st birthday, my old roommates took me out, I was blackout drunk and the next morning I was in our neighbor's bathtub.”  
“The neighbor's?”  
John chuckled while taking a quick sip from the cup.  
“She even put a towel over me as a blanket,” Miles added with a nostalgic smile; John let out a full bellied laugh.  
“Alright, you got me beat there.”

“Oh wait, I got a good one,” Miles took a drink of his own coffee, “What's one thing you wished you knew that you know now?”  
“Do you want a joke answer or a serious answer?”  
Miles sipped at his coffee again, “I think I'd like to hear both.”  
“Well,” John hesitated, “Joke answer? I would have liked to know I was going to lose an eye.”  
The younger man scoffed a laugh, shaking his head.  
“Serious answer,” he paused, “Wish I knew my wife and I weren't going to work out.”  
The cab of the truck was uncomfortably silent.

“You?”  
A knot formed in his stomach as Miles shifted in his seat. He nervously drank out his cup again, trying to buy himself time before saying anything. He knew he was being anxious, stupid for no reason. John was always honest with him about everything, his ex-wife included.  
“Well, I don't think I have much of a joke answer.”  
Miles chewed on the inside of his cheek, willing himself to just spit out what he wanted to tell him.  
“But, I guess in the same vein as that, I wish I knew that my fiancee-- ex-fiancee, now-- was going to walk out on me two months before we were going to get married.”  
The knot eased, Miles felt less like he wanted to vomit, again, after saying it.  
John shot him a look over his shoulder, “No shit?”

Miles only nodded.  
“How long ago was that?”  
“Christ, a year now,” the younger man stated, the words coming out freely.  
“What happened, if you don't mind me asking?”  
With a bitter laugh, Miles shrugged, “I have no idea. I get off work at the clinic, read a text from her, giving me that whole 'it's not you, it's me' type spiel. I went to our apartment, hoping to talk it out, and she's gone. Along with everything of hers, and some of mine. I didn't know what else to do, but I knew I didn't want to be there anymore. So, I left everything behind and went back to my hometown.”  
John didn't say anything.

“And that is the most I've ever said about that in over a year,” Miles concluded, drinking the rest of the coffee in the cup.  
They sat in silence again.  
“Well,” John said finally, clearing his throat, “And I'm being honest here. Even if I knew any of that, 10 or 20 years ago, any of it, I wouldn't change it. Not a damn thing.”  
Miles opened his mouth to speak.  
“Because then I wouldn't have ever met you,” the older mad admitted, voice low.  
Miles was taken aback by the comment for a moment, before cracking a smile and laughing.  
“That's the cheesiest thing you've ever said.”  
Chuckling, John shrugged.  
“Pull over though, I have to kiss you now.”

**Tuesday 5:22 PM**

“You wanna sit down?”  
Miles shot John a glare, which he ignored to take another drink of his beer before cracking a devilish grin.  
“I dislike you so much right now,” the younger man murmured under his breath.  
“You agreed,” John countered, still grinning.  
“I simply stated that I was perfectly fine with what you did the other night in Vegas,” Miles argued at a whisper, “Not, oh let's shove a butt plug up my ass and go to dinner.”  
“You still agreed, and sure as shit didn't complain when I put it in.”  
Miles huffed in annoyance, a noticeable flush on his cheeks.  
“Aw, don't be like that, kiddo,” the older man's grin grew wider, “You know I'll make it up to you later tonight.”

Grimacing, Miles let out a sigh, finally taking a seat next to John at the bar. Feeling the toy press inside him, the younger man winced; he glared at John again when he so much as chuckled at his facial expression.  
“You are so cute when you're mad.”  
“Still dislike you,” Miles muttered, trying to focus on anything else other than the metal toy in his ass.  
“I could have gotten a vibrating one,” John joked.  
“I'd have disliked that even more so,” the younger man added, stealing the glass of beer from the other man.

“Just have to keep it in over dinner.”  
“And then?”  
The devilish grin returned to John's face.  
“And ruin the surprise?”  
“The metal butt plug wasn't surprising enough?”  
John slid the beer glass away from Miles, taking a drink for himself, smile still present on his face.

 **Tuesday 7:39 PM**

“Head to the bathroom.”  
The request was almost too quiet for Miles to hear; John had waited long enough for the waitress to walk away.  
“The bathroom?”  
It dawns on Miles a moment later.  
“No, absolutely not,” he says firmly.  
John cocked an eyebrow, “Do you want that plug out of your ass or no?”  
Miles groans, “Are you serious? We're going to get caught.”  
“We aren't getting caught, this place is damn near empty.”  
The scowl on the younger man's face did not waver. John sighs, placing his hand on top of Miles' briefly; he leans in to whisper in his ear.  
“Do this for me, hm? For Daddy?”

Miles felt his face burn up, his cock jumped in excitement. He yanked John's beer glass again, finishing off what was left over dinner.  
“We're not going in at the same time.”  
“Course not,” John confirmed, smiling, “Take the last stall.”  
Easing himself off the bar stool, the younger man sauntered towards the bathroom located at the very end of the long hallway. He waited for a few minutes before the main door to the men's room swung open; John charged towards him immediately, slamming shut the door of the stall and pinning Miles to the wall with a heated kiss.  
“Dirty old man,” Miles said with fake anger in his voice, clutching at the collar of John's jacket.  
“You know it.”

Trailing his lips towards the younger man's neck, careful to kiss and bite the marks he had left the previous night.  
“God, John, stop fucking around,” Miles moaned, eagerly trying to pull off his jacket, hands traveling down to the waistband of John's jeans.  
“Be patient,” the older man chided, squeezing Miles' ass playfully.  
He opened his mouth to retort, John was already pressing another kiss on his lips, effectively silencing him for the time being. His hand moved from Miles' ass towards his crotch, lightly cupping his now hard dick through his jeans before sliding the hand under his pants and boxer briefs, grasping the warm flesh between his fingers. Miles bucked his hips towards the older man in response, moaning against the kiss.  
“These, off. Now.” 

Without hesitation, Miles unbuttoned his jeans, yanking down the fabric of both articles of clothing with John's hand still wrapped around his cock.  
“Hands on the wall,” John instructed, slowly moving his hand up and down the younger man's dick, causing Miles to swear under his breath.  
Again, Miles did exactly what he was told; he jumped in surprise when John grabbed him by the hips, forcing him to stick his ass out towards him. He removed his hand that was previously around his cock, searching for the thin oval handle of the plug nestled between his ass cheeks. Ever so gently, John began easing the plug out of him; Miles felt a wave of relief wash over him, like a literal weight was being taken away.  
“I did realize something before coming in here,” John murmured, the plug barely moved an inch from inside Miles.

Pushing the tip of the plug back, sending a jolt down the younger man's spine, he cried out; his hands scrambled for purchase on the wall.  
“There's really no other way to get this thing out of here without someone suspecting something,” the older man finished, “I mean, neither of us can carry this dirty thing around in our pockets.”  
He pulled it out a second time and repeated the motion from before. Miles was barely able to stifle the moan that escaped him.  
“But-- but you said--”  
“I know, sweetheart,” his tone was indirectly mocking, “You've been such a good boy to me already. Can you do it a little longer?”  
The curved tip of the plug pressed against Miles' prostate; he yelped.  
“I'll... I'll try,” the younger man whimpered.  
John cracked a smile, pulling out the toy again, “I knew you could. You spoil Daddy so much.”

 **Tuesday 8:20 PM**

By the time he left the men's bathroom, Miles felt like he was swaying back and forth like a drunkard. The metal toy weighed like a ton inside of him after the treatment John had given him; he wanted the thing out so badly. Exiting the bar, he met John on the sidewalk as he smoked the remnants of a cigar.  
“You look like hell.”  
The younger man nodded lazily, “I'd say I feel like hell, but.”  
John chuckled, “Feel good?”  
“Fuck yeah,” Miles blurted, “I'm tired as hell though.”  
“Straight to bed then?”  
“I couldn't handle anything else.”  
Truthfully, Miles just wanted the damn toy out of his ass.

Clasping his hand, John intertwined his fingers with Miles' own. The gesture was new for him; Miles never knew, or ever thought, him to be a hand holder. It was sweet, regardless. The older man lead him back to their hotel up the street, guiding him to the elevator; Miles was almost certain he had dozed off on the trip up to their floor.  
“Lay back,” John said, sitting Miles on the bed; the younger man flopped onto the mattress and John stifled a laugh when he whined.  
“Relax, I didn't forget,” he added, removing Miles' shoes, his jeans, and finally his underwear, “Bring your legs up, and relax.”

The toy was eased out, making a faint pop sound when it was finally removed. John took it back into the bathroom to clean it thoroughly. Miles felt his eyelids start to droop; he's never been so exhausted before.  
“Get some rest kiddo,” John called from the bathroom.  
“Not til you're in bed,” Miles called back, eyes already shut.  
The water stopped running in the sink, faint footsteps against the old hotel carpet approached the side of the mattress. Miles felt a warm hand on the side of his neck; he placed his hand over John's.  
“John.”  
“Yeah kiddo?”  
A pause.  
“I love you.”

The room was silent. Miles had drifted to sleep as soon as the words slipped from his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> I nearly died making this.


End file.
